Moments Like These
by Kachanski
Summary: Perhaps one day Naruto would forget him, but its moments like these that Gaara allows himself to hope that day will never come.


**Right...Hello!**

**This is one of the very first NarutoxGaara stories that i have written, so please be kind! On the other hand constructive critisisms (especially on how to improve the flow, grammar ect.) will be greatly appreciated. :D **

**I hope you enjoy! and please please review... I put a lot of effort into writing this and even went over it more than once to correct it! Wow!**

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Gaara looked over his glass, watching the laughing blond across the room, surrounded by friends, lapping up the attention.

Friends.

That was something that Gaara didn't have very many of. Unlike Naruto he didn't seem to have the knack of endearing himself to people, of winning their friendship. Even if he did he couldn't bring himself to return their trust. Respect he could manage, but not trust. That, he guessed, was just the way he was. The only exception was Naruto; Naruto he trusted almost completely.

A loud peal of laughter brought wandering aqua eyes back to the centre of attention. The blond had had too much to drink, his movements were becoming more extravagant and his voice louder, if that were possible, but then everything about him was excessive. His clothes, his speech, the way he ate and drank… A small breath that could almost have been a sigh escaped the redhead's lips as he thought about the blonds eating habits; it was enough to put you off food for life.

Putting the glass to his lips once again Gaara realised that he too had probably drunk too much, but it wasn't as if he had anything else to do. None of Naruto's friends were likely to more than glance at him, or perhaps spare him a small smile. After all he was just Naruto's weird adopted brother, and this was Naruto's day, they had no reason to pay attention to him. Naruto had told him that drink made him too chatty, but then he had also been told that he was abnormally quiet, so he had come to the conclusion that drink, at the worst, must make him normal.

Still, the thought of losing even some of his inhibitions and becoming vulnerable like that was not appealing, so he tried to avoid drinking as much as possible.

Continuing to watch as the blond grinned widely and took a bite from a slice of sickeningly sweet looking cake to a chorus of 'happy birthday', Gaara too whispered those words, although he knew that they would go unheard from his corner and allowed a tiny smile to tug at the corners of his mouth at the sight of the man wolfing his cake.

Idly, Gaara wondered what it would be like to celebrate a proper birthday. He never celebrated his birthday, the day had been shadowed over by the death of his mother and his father and siblings had chosen to mourn the day rather than celebrate it. Even after Iruka had taken him in he had never found joy in the day of his birth and had never revealed it to them. It was purely by accident that it had been discovered, but even then it was only celebrated once. His reaction had ensured that.

Why did he do that? Even he didn't know. Iruka had given him a small charm with the Japanese kanji for love on it. Folding his small hand over it the kind hearted man had explained that it was a symbol of his and Naruto's love for him. He had accepted it silently, his face blank and then walked out of the room. It was as if all the grief and rage that he had hidden within himself had finally broken free and rushed through him like a torrent the moment that charm had touched his hand. He had drowned in it until he could no longer control his actions and it had driven him to the kitchen, to the large, shiny, razor sharp kitchen knife that he had watched Iruka using sometimes.

Gaara reached up and gently pushed some of his red hair away from his forehead, fingers tracing over the lumpy scar above his left eye.

He had been so certain that it was a lie, a horrible, cruel joke at his behalf that he had fallen for yet again. In a way he supposed that he had been punishing himself for his gullibility, so, with the tiny charm clutched in one hand he had stood in front of a mirror and carved that _special_ kanji onto his forehead. By the time Iruka found him and ripped the bloodied knife from his limp fingers he had finished, and he could remember being sickly pleased with the results as he regarded himself in the mirror. It was neatly done and although blood dripped into his eye and onto his clothes he was happy with his work. To his father he had never been good enough, his handwriting had never been neat enough, his drawing too imprecise, he could do nothing right. At least he had done that right.

After that the day had passed in a blur. He had been bundled up, the charm pried from his still clenched fist and put out of sight so as to not upset him and then he had been rushed to accident and emergency to make sure he hadn't done too much damage. Iruka had tried to comfort him, to rub his shoulder reassuringly but Gaara hadn't missed how his face fell at Gaara's unresponsiveness. Doctors and nurses had given Iruka pitying looks, thinking that the numb child beside him wouldn't notice them. In truth he hadn't missed anything that happened between the adults, although now it was nothing more than a blur of emotions and pain. There was one thing however, that he did remember clearly. All through the ordeal there had been a tanned hand holding his, squeezing it and he only needed to glance into those clear blue eyes to feel a little better.

He had always marvelled how an eight or nine year old could be so unjudging. He had always thought that most people would have been wary of him after that episode but Naruto never lost that cheery smile. Gaara never questioned it though; for fear that bright smile would disappear.

The sound of a plate on the table bought Gaara back to the present and he looked up to see one of Naruto's friends, a pink haired girl who he believed to be called Sakura, putting a slice of cake in front of him. He was surprised that she had bothered; most people would rather pretend he wasn't there. Eventually he murmured "thank you", still examining the cake which seemed to consist mainly of marzipan and icing, with only the bare minimum needed of sponge. Gaara sighed. He hated sweet things.

Sakura smiled at him before returning back to the main group of people, who, now that they had their cake had thinned and spread out into groups. Sakura was one of the few people who he had time for. She often visited Naruto and whenever she did she would always take the time to say hello. He appreciated that.

Gaara closed his eyes and yawned, cutting of the scene in front of him. He was tired, that was rare. Normally he was plagued by insomnia and when he did sleep he suffered from nightmares. It was sufficiently bad that people would sometimes jokingly comment to him that he looked like a panda or a racoon. His normal response to this would be to glare at them and they would retreat hurriedly. This however didn't work on Naruto, who would frequently remind him of the dark lines around his eyes and when shot a warning look would simply laugh and say that glaring didn't change it, it just made him look like an angry racoon.

Over time the nightmares became rarer, and the insomnia faded somewhat but it was still the case that the only true relief he could find was in sleeping in the same bed as Naruto. A pale lip curled slightly at the thought of Iruka's reaction. There was nothing…sexual…about it; it was simply the case that it was only in the comforting presence of the blond that he could sleep properly. Of course as he got older he had weaned himself off it, trained himself to sleep away from his 'brother'. He had realised that it wasn't normal, but then he realised that he wasn't normal either, and doubted that he ever would be. It didn't matter though, he was resigned to his fate, and so long as his one precious person still cared about him, and would still, when the nightmares kept him up all night, hugging his knees, lift up the covers of his bed and pat the space next to him, inviting and allowing the redhead to crawl in beside him like he did on the very first night.

Gaara snorted slightly and a tiny crooked smile crossed his normally impassive face. He could remember that night surprisingly well considering his young age and the traumatic events of the day. He tried not to think about that too much though. Naruto always told him that he thought too much and although he knew it was probably true he would always growl an insult back because he knew deep down that the real reason he just stared and thought was that if he didn't find some way of distracting himself he would be forced to notice that apart from Naruto he was completely alone. He was reaping the crop that came of continually pushing people away. People always started out friendly or polite but in the end his continual indifference and disinterest would drive them away. It didn't upset him though. In his mind it was better to be alone and safe than allowing people close and getting hurt again. That was one mistake he wouldn't repeat.

Even as that thought crossed his mind he knew he was being a hypocrite. He had almost unwittingly allowed Naruto to get closer to him than anyone else had ever been allowed and he really, _really_ wanted to believe that Naruto wouldn't let him down, but that little sceptical part of him would always tell him that it was only a matter of time until the sunny blond forgot about him, or became irritated with his unpredictable mix of clingy neediness and aggressive disinterest and try to get rid of him.

Forcefully the redhead pulled away from those thoughts and the dark path they were leading him down and returned to his previous musings, which although admittedly only slightly less depressing did remind him of what he now had.

That night. It was crystal clear, even thirteen years later, but then he's read somewhere that the more emotional an event is, the better it will stick in your memory, the clearer it will be. That night had left him in an emotionless daze for a good six years, so it must have had an impact.

He had been left alone that night. His father had taken his siblings out somewhere. Dinner? Cinema? He didn't know. His uncle Yashamaru had also left, even though he was supposed to be keeping an eye on his charge. Despite the fact he was only six no-one minded leaving him alone, probably wouldn't have been too upset his he had disappeared. Yashamaru came back first, drunk. Later that night he fell down the stairs and broke his neck, but not before pouring out all his anger and hatred to the little boy under his care.

Gaara had been nowhere near him when he died; he had been huddled in a corner of his room crying at the revelation that he was unloved and unwanted when only a few hours before the very person who had revealed this to him had assured him that he was irreplaceable. When his father returned, laughing at some joke Kankuro had told him (funny how you remember the little details isn't it?) and saw his brother in law's crumpled body at the foot of the stairs he had headed straight for Gaara's room and needed no further proof when he saw Gaara's tears, assuming them to be tears of guilt. He was, after all, well known for being emotionally unstable.

He had been grabbed roughly and dragged to the door, past his horrified siblings, and literally thrown out onto the doorstep. His father had been silent the whole time but just before he slammed the door he had hissed "If you know what's good for you, you wont try to get back in." Even his siblings, who had normally held a small measure of sympathy for him, had stony faces and that was the last thing he saw before the door slammed on him, leaving him alone in the cold and dark.

For a long time he had simply sat on the doorstep, too stunned to move. He knew from his fathers tone that it wouldn't be safe to try to get back in, and without Yashamaru to protect him he knew that his father would probably become violent. He could remember that at the thought of his uncle he had begun to cry again and the memory was still painful, but he no longer cried, he hadn't cried for twelve years now. Sometimes he wondered if he still could, he had heard stories that if you don't use something like your voice then you lose it, perhaps the same applied to tears.

Finally he had pulled himself from the ground and headed away to the one other place that he could find a small measure of comfort, and perhaps even _him_. Gaara hadn't understood why, still didn't, but he had been oddly drawn to the small blond boy, the first person to touch him kindly. It was stupid really, the idiot had run into him, knocking him over, but it was the reaction after that had amazed the lonely redhead. He had apologised. Profusely. And then picked him up off the floor and lead him to a bench to sit down.

"_Hey! I'm so sorry, I didn't see you. Are you okay?"_

"_I-I'm fine"_

"_That's good! D'you want to come play on the swing with me?"_

"_Really? You…You want me to?"_

"_Of course silly! I wouldn't ask otherwise"_

He had been like the Sun, always shining brightly, and like the sun he pulled people in and kept them close like planets. He excluded good will and his mirth was infectious. That was why, almost every day after that, Gaara would go to the swings and sit there waiting for him. He didn't always come, but whenever he did he would give a cheery wave and run over to see how Gaara was. He made Gaara feel special, wanted.

The moment Naruto had laid eyes on him that day Gaara knew that the blond knew something was wrong. He might act the clown and wear that idiotic goofy smile but he wasn't stupid. It was the middle of winter yet Gaara wasn't wearing a coat. The little boy didn't walk; he stumbled as if he couldn't see the ground in front of him clearly. So, without a word (For children know far better than adults that sometimes silence can say more than words if you know how to listen) he had gripped a pale cold hand in his own and lead him home. He hadn't let go as Gaara began to struggle as they neared the welcoming looking house, he hadn't let go as he pleaded and begged Iruka to let Gaara stay just one night and he didn't let go until they had entered Naruto's brightly coloured bedroom and set up somewhere for him to sleep. After that Gaara had simply never left. They never discovered his original address, even after they finally coaxed the traumatised boy into speech a month later and Iruka had voiced no objections to housing him permanently.

A calloused had on his own pulled Gaara back to the present and he looked up into a pair of deep blue eyes. "What's wrong?" The words were slightly slurred, but concerned nonetheless.

"Nothing. I was thinking."

The grin he received in return was almost blinding. "I swear! You think too much!" The exclamation was followed by a hand reaching out to poke his forehead. "If you keep on like this it'll break!"

Gaara's lip rose in a small growl at the unwanted advice "It's better than never thinking at all" He shot a pointed look in the blond's direction but it went unnoticed "Why are you here anyway?"

Naruto smiled again, not put off by Gaara's aggression. "Oh well…I get the whole sitting in a corner brooding thing you do, but I thought I should check if you hadn't died or something. You can never tell the way you stare off into space like that."

"I'm very much alive thank you."

"Aww don't be like that…Angry racoons are no way as sweet as happy racoons!" He reached forwards to pull Gaara's cheeks up.

Gaara didn't care if Naruto was drunk. He was pushing it at this point. Slapping the waving hands away he snarled "If you do that then when we get home I will kill you."

Naruto pouted. This was a routine they had been through hundreds of times and he knew exactly what to do. "You cant kill me just as I turn nineteen! Its not fair!" His expression turned sly and Gaara knew what was coming "If you kill me then I wont be able to let you sleep with me like I was planning"

Wrinkling his nose Gaara muttered "Who'd want to sleep with someone who stinks of alcohol?" He knew he's already lost though, and from the triumphant expression on Naruto's face he knew too.

"I guess sulky racoon is acceptable. The parties finishing up now anyway." As he left he turned and smiled warmly at Gaara "Thanks for coming. You didn't have to."

Gaara allowed himself a rare smile as he watched Naruto and some others trying to push a drunken Ino out of the door. The idiot should know by now that it went without saying that if Naruto wanted him to do something then it was as good as done. It was the least he could do. He stood a little unsteadily and grabbed his coat, looking forward to a good nights sleep thanks to Naruto and the alcohol. Naruto waited at the door for him, still beaming.

Perhaps one day Naruto would forget him, push him aside for someone more manageable, but until that day Gaara knew that all he could do was enjoy the time he had been given, and it was moments like these as Naruto stepped out into the icy air beside him and grinned that goofy grin that Gaara would allow himself to hope that day would never come.


End file.
